


Mother Knows Best

by NovemberVenom



Category: MCSM, Minecraft: Story Mode - Fandom
Genre: But also not in a kinky way just cute, But not in a kinky way just weird, Coping, Eggs, Feral Behavior, Hybrids AU, Jetra Mention, Spiders, baby spiders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 22:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18433292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovemberVenom/pseuds/NovemberVenom
Summary: Everyone has their ways of coping after being trapped in the portal network for so long. Petra's way, apparently, is to act like a feral cat while having as much brood as she can.Lukas is still her friend, and he refuses to let her spiral alone.





	Mother Knows Best

Lukas is almost ready to give up. Not yet, though. 

It’s the fifth time Petra has hissed and swatted at him with tarsal claws like a furious feline, and frankly, Lukas is amazed that his luck hasn’t run out as he evades her attempt, ducking his head down. He tries not to think too hard about how she just went for his face. That’s a first for tonight. 

When he’s sure she’s cooled down as much as she can, he rises slightly, meeting her eye. The look in it isn’t right. It hasn’t been right for weeks. 

Everyone in the Order has had their reeling recovery from the endless catacombs of portals, the hostile worlds, the torture, the suffering, the- 

He cuts off the thought. Everyone’s had a hard time since coming home. They’re underweight. They’re tired and scarred. 

Petra, though? She’s different. More different than any one of them should have been by their return. 

They knew something was wrong from the moment they returned. Petra was twitchy, far too quiet and only relieved according to her own promise, despite the continuous unease and doubt showcased in every step. They stepped into the light of their town, out of the temple doorway to see the shocked faces of dozens if not hundreds of people who had lost their heroes as much as the Order felt they had lost themselves. One didn’t have to look into Petra's eyes for long to know that a threshold was breaking, something was falling, down, down, down until a frayed rope snapped, and then she did, too. 

The breaking of her normality became far less inconspicuous when she burst past the rest of them in a sprint, leaping on an unlucky pig in the street and ripping it apart, eating it _alive_. The four of them had grown customary to fear, but there, three of them felt it anew. They’d reached the safe space of home but now their friend, their _family_ , morphed into a monster they’d never seen before. 

But maybe this is the consequence, Lukas had thought, _Of letting her starve for months. We didn’t have have to take her food. We could have forced her to eat, she nearly did the same for us. Her abdomen was so shriveled. She said she's made to last but you could see her ribs, why didn’t you do anything?!_

 _Monster._ Lukas can’t stand to call her that. Not after everything she’d done for them. Not after sacrificing every morsel she could have eaten for their sake. No, she never was and never will be a monster, but… 

He hadn’t looked at Jesse’s face in that moment, and he’s almost glad he didn’t because it might have been worse than the unfolding carnage. 

He doesn’t know who set the guards up to it, but they came with tranquilizers. He remembers them pulling her into the temple on a gurney, covered in blood and chaos but still peaceful in rest. Their faces were blank.

Suffice to say, Lukas doesn’t like to remember that day, but he has to. The change hasn't really left his friend. 

just as the four of them have suffered, the four of them have had their ways of coping. Petra’s way, apparently, is making more. Taking more, too. Laying more brood. Setting more webbing. Eating more prey. It hasn’t ended and while Ivor says an end is in sight, Lukas isn’t sure where Ivor sees it. 

(It’s probably a guess grounded on nothing but hope, something that's been harder to find on Ivor’s face than it ever has been.

Lukas briefly wonders if Petra died before they found home, and if this is what’s left of her.) 

He can’t let those thoughts fester, so instead of giving up, he tries harder. He’s gotten quite far as it is. 

Getting into her room was an obstacle in itself. There’s so much white webbing strung over her walls and belongings that he has to ask himself whether or not he’s in a storm cloud (It’s certainly dark enough to be a storm cloud) or Petra’s room, but the presence of a large hybrid oozing with... some kind of emotion was enough to confirm the latter. 

Lukas isn’t sure whether he wants to push her enough to swat at him again, but he's sure to let her know his feelings on the topic, that she sees his ears lower and his tail twitch. If she won’t use words, he can play that game too.

But good lord is he sick of the silence. It’s not worth it anymore. “ _Sheesh_ , calm down, I’m just trying to help.” 

She gives him the stink eye and settles deeper into her nest. Of course. 

Can he really blame her, though? She’s a mother protecting her brood and here he is, invading on her privacy in the name of friendship and love. _What a villain I am._

“You’re not making this any easier.” He pipes up again, leaning closer to her with his flashlight in hand. The same way Olivia would always hold it when checking redstone malfunctions deep in a machine. “I just want to make sure they’re healthy.” 

He knows this brood is a big one, and is admittedly clueless as to how she’s hidden every single one of her slings underneath her abdomen in the nest of blankets and webbing. All the same, he knows that mothers always find a way. He just hopes Petra's way isn’t protectively crushing her own kids. 

He, Ivor, and Jesse had a feeling she’d have a brood not long after their return, but none of them would have guessed how many eggs her body would decide to produce. They've climbed high in numbers before, going from fifty to one hundred between brood cycles, but now it's got to be more. 

She was moody, so _moody_ , but everything fell into place when he’d realized just how heavily pregnant the spider queen in front of him had been. She'd barely moved for days because she _couldn't_. 

_Maybe if you just talked to us, we wouldn't have these issues. Maybe if you quit swatting at me while I'm trying to take care of you, you'd FEEL BETTER._

Lukas huffs, leaning back and drumming his fingers on the arm of a chair he managed to pull from the grip of silk. All Petra gives is another heavy hiss. 

“Yeah, whatever.” 

It feels familiar. If she'd been using words, he'd get an earful.

Lukas concludes that it’s like trying to reason with a feral cat who also happens to be a brick wall, and his friend at that. The good part of that is even if he can’t reason with the Petra he knows, he knows how to reason with a feral cat. It’s old hat to an ocelot. His smirk is minor, but it's there. 

“You hungry?” 

The spider queen perks up. Classic. It’s only precautionary that he brought a few fresh fish, but it pays off, because he knows she’s been too absorbed in brooding to grab a meal for herself, however small. He nods, pulling a large salmon out of a cooler by his feet, holding it by the gills, and he can’t help but laugh at the immediate spark of interest on her face. Her eyes widen, and her lips part ever so slightly, just enough to give a glimpse of her huge fangs. 

“Oh, you so are.” Lukas smiles, trying not to show off his sharper teeth, lest she take it as some kind of threat. He holds the fish out. “Here. It’s all yours.” 

She stares at him, eager to take as he is to give, but freezes only after leaning forward briefly. She eyes the fish, then Lukas, and it takes him another moment to understand what she’s getting at. 

His ears droop in disappointment. Then, they flick. “Nope, I’m not tossing this to you. If you want it, you need to take it.” Lukas stretches his arm out a little further, the weight of the fish pulling it down somewhat. He bites back from muttering _I’m not doing you any favors_ because now that he thinks about it, he absolutely is. 

The others shied away when she started snarling and swiping, everyone but Jesse, who had been too overwhelmed with her own hurt and healing regardless. Seeing her girlfriend like that did nothing but make everything hurt more, louden the buzzing of numbness. Lukas would rather do anything but write, because he’s had enough of his own thoughts lately and he’s tired of spilling them out with ink and tears. He’s not going to hold a bow, either, for more reasons of his own, so what better does he have to do than babysit a feral spider queen? To teach her how to be human again, to let her know that her family still cares about her?

He's not going to let her spiral alone. He refuses. 

Petra growls in frustration, giving Lukas a scowl that would give Ivor a run for his money, before she caves from the hunger still visible in her eyes. Her legs shift beneath her and she deliberately reaches out with claw-tipped fingers that should have been clipped a couple weeks ago, eyeing Lukas the whole time, before snatching the fish for herself by its gills, lifting it out of his grip. 

With that amount of intention, he swears she's going to start ripping into it viciously. She doesn't. Instead, she examines the fish carefully, scanning each scale like a critic before setting it aside. Then, she stares at Lukas and the cooler again. 

“You’re kidding me.” 

Nope, she’s not. She goes for the same routine: Shifting, leaning forward, staring back and forth between Lukas and the box of food. 

He’s tempted to laugh at her, but remembers that he’s the one in the den of a predator with young who doesn’t even have to tolerate his presence, because they both know social contract is long gone at the moment. 

So Lukas caves. He hooks a smaller fish from the cooler in his claws, holding it out again while resting an elbow on his knee. “Here you go, your highness. Just… eat one at least before you ask for another, okay?” 

Petra takes it with more ease than last time, scooping it up gingerly. Lukas finds himself thanking her for not growling this time, but she doesn’t respond to it, putting the little fish in her jaws and sinking her teeth into it for grip. 

Then, she pulls something… unexpected. 

She lifts up from her nest with visible effort. It's a feat in itself, because just days ago she made it clear that moving was out of the question in wake of exhaustion, but here she is. Suddenly, It's a world of opportunity. Is she going to leave her nest? What's she doing? 

Lukas’s ears shoot forward and on instinct he scrambles for his flashlight, hairs on his neck bristling. 

It’s almost a mistake, because Petra flinches and hisses softly at the red-tinted light, but it’s dim enough for her to lose interest fairly quickly. Lukas thanks the heavens for the softness of redstone flashlights, and simultaneously, regrets his choice of sitting directly in front of her. 

A second later, he doesn’t regret his choice one bit. 

He leans in and shines the light beneath her only to be met with more tiny glowing eyes than he’s even able to count. Her slings. They hatched! 

Some of the slings are moving, others are squeaking and warbling just loud enough for his ocelot ears to catch, but almost all of the little creatures hidden beneath Petra aren’t yet old enough for their darker colors to show. To his relief, Petra tore apart more of the mattress than he'd thought, leaving plenty of room for her little ones. 

He smiles, stifling another laugh, as he thinks about how it sure seems like she’s sitting on a nest of fuzzy, eyed peaches. He can’t comprehend how much she loves them, but considering the warmth in his soul at the sight of them, he’s willing to take a guess. 

When Petra grabs the larger salmon with her free hands and inches it towards the nest, understanding comes to him like a punch in the gut. 

Oh, he is _so_ bringing her more later. She deserves it. Her little ones deserve it. They were there the _whole time_ and here he was, putting them on the backburner of considerations, like they don’t matter as much as their mother does. 

He's distracted again when their mother makes a noise between a growl and a purr. It's a noise of endearment. She's talking to her brood. 

_Have I reached nirvana? I think this is nirvana._

Suddenly, the noise happens again, and it's much closer to a purr because it's coming from Lukas. 

Petra tenderly pushes the fish beneath her, where tiny fangs begin to work at it in a matter of moments. Petra cranes her neck downward to watch them as well, assuring their fangs can break through the prey’s scales. When she’s sure they’ll be okay, she straightens up, sighing from the strain in her muscles. He hears subtle tearing and chewing as she begins to devour her smaller prey. 

He’s got no idea why she’s letting him stay this close, with his head almost brushing her stomach (or, well, where her stomach would be if she were pure human), but it’s not something Lukas is going to take for granted. He’s got no idea when Petra will give him a chance like this to look at her brood again, if ever. At least while she's like this. 

They’re so cute, so cute that he’s falling for them already. Guilt tugs at his chest for being so short with Petra before, so rude. 

Well, he’s not even sure how much language she understands at this point, but there’s two things she responds to for sure, that being anything that involves her brood and anything that involves food. 

Despite being downright nonverbal, however, it doesn’t exempt Petra from the most basic means of hybrid communication. Like growling. 

Lukas, still staring, doesn’t notice the growl lingering in her throat when she swallows the last of her small meal. He leans in a little more, paws nearing the edge of the torn-up mattress nest. He really wishes he brought his sketchbook, because the longer he looks at the slings, the more he’s certain that they look like peaches with fangs and legs. They have no problem eating what’s been given to them, though they’re a bit clumsy, stumbling over each other. They seem far less aggressive than their mother… 

Their mother. Who’s starting to growl again, and whose legs are quivering in exhaustion beneath her. Or is it rage? 

“Shit,” Lukas breathes, beginning to slowly pull away. No sudden movements. “Sorr-” 

Too close, too late. A snarl rips from her throat, and her pearly fangs are on full display for a moment before one of her legs strike out with a front kick, knocking Lukas back at full force. His back hits something, then the floor, and suddenly he can't breathe quite right. 

His chest stings. His head is ringing, and he’s not sure if his head hit the floor or the chair behind him- or, well, beside him now, so perhaps both. 

His first thought is almost as comical as the first word that comes out of his mouth. It doesn’t sound quite right, rushed and panicked as if the apology had been forced like the breath from his lungs. 

“Sorry!” _I deserved that._

Petra hisses at him so loudly it sounds like she’s spraying venom, but if she could, it probably would have been her first attack. The only wetness he feels is lingering on his chest, through tears in his shirt. Blood. 

He's tarsal claws are efficient, he'll give her that, but so is her webbing. He doesn't think hard about it as he reaches for a clump of silk, patching the scratches on his chest. He's lucky they aren't deep. 

Lukas surrenders to sitting on the floor, criss-cross, while he gathers his bearings. It’s where the anger hits him, but its spark is suffocated by a flood of burning shame in his chest beneath the cuts. He can’t look up at Petra. He should have known better, Dammit. 

It’s not the first time he hasn’t listened. 

But… It’s also not the first time she’s swiped at him. All the other times, she just missed. 

She isn’t moving to attack him again, but she is staring a hole right through Lukas’s head. There’s no hatred in her eyes, but he certainly feels the message she’s trying to leave. Watch yourself, ocelot. 

Lukas is at least glad about how much she webbed up the floor. There’s no way it didn’t cushion his fall at least a little bit, and briefly he gets a sense of why so much webbing makes things more comfortable. 

Lukas sighs, glancing around the room. It’s thoroughly webbed, but not enough to mask all of her belongings. The books on her bookshelves are reachable, even if he has to claw through a thin membrane of silk. 

Perfect. Way better than sitting around and having a stare down, and an even better way to forget what just happened. He grabs a novel without even looking at the cover and relocates to his chair. He scoots it a bit further back than it was before. “Hey.” 

Petra blinks at him, still no anger in her eyes. Good. “Want me to read this to you?” 

Apparently that was the right card to play. She _trills_ even louder than she hissed before. 

He’ll take that as a yes.


End file.
